


No Rest For The Wicked, But The Good May Sleep

by White_Tiger94



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne-centric, Clark is barely there, Gen, Mentioned Kate Kane, No Incest, Platonic Bedsharing, Platonic Cuddling, Sleepy Cuddles, barbara gordon is a Batkid, even if its a safehouse bed, even if she's not Bruce's kid, putting your kids to bed, sleepy vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Tiger94/pseuds/White_Tiger94
Summary: Being a vigilante is exhausting work. Sometimes it's all you can do to drag yourself to a safehouse and sleep.Being a vigilante and a father? that requires something even more.Bruce would like nothing more than to sleep. But he has one more job he can do before he can rest.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Duke Thomas & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 276





	No Rest For The Wicked, But The Good May Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a prompt idea, I thought it was a cute: "Bruce goes around Gotham collecting his supposedly professional sleepy vigilante children". But then I had a great idea for what I wanted for Dick and Damian, and I didn't want any of the Batkids being left out. So I was like, "that's a lot of characters to request someone else write, I should try to write this myself. It'll be easy, I already have ideas for half of them."
> 
> I was right about one thing, this was way too many characters to request someone write. Sorry if they seem too short or anyone is OOC, put it down to me being tired and the characters being exhausted.
> 
> If you have a better idea about how this prompt would play out, feel free to write your own version!

It was finally done. The longest night in a series of long nights was finally over. The cells of Arkham were filled once more, the first time in at least a week.

It had been the worst breakout in ages, possibly years. It didn’t seem like a large scale plan, at least, just a series of blunders that had led to a massive breakout.

It had quickly become apparent that Batman and Robin were not going to be enough to keep order in the nervous city, let alone track down all of the escapees. Bruce had been forced to call on each and every one of the Bat’s allies to calm his city and track down the rogues and other inmates.

Besides Bruce's own children, Batwoman, Flamebird, and the Birds of Prey had answered the call for help. For a full week it had been non-stop, all-hands on deck as they dealt with tracking down the escapees as well as dealing with the usual Gotham craziness. Alfred, Oracle, and Cullen had been running ragged on comms, trying to keep eyes on the city's cameras and track down vital information as fast as possible. Duke had thrown himself into day patrol vehemently, trying his best to find any trace of where the criminals had hidden themselves. The rest of them had devoted every moment they could to keeping an eye on as much of the city at once as they could.

But now it was done. When the last prisoner was safely locked up again, Bruce sent out the all-clear signal. Kate, who had watched over the prisoner with him and Damian, gave him a salute and grabbed Betty, heading towards their bikes. Bruce wanted nothing more than to head out himself so he could sleep, but instead turned to speak with the Commissioner. 

There was still work to be done before he could sleep.

* * *

“Robin,” Batman’s quiet voice echoed on the rooftop, and Robin felt his shoulders pull back as he straightened up. Shame built in him as he realized he had been leaning slightly the entire time his father had been talking with Commissioner Gordon. He had no idea what the two older men had been discussing, either, paying no attention to them whatsoever. He hadn't even noticed when the Commissioner had left, too busy daydreaming of fluffy pillows and clean sheets. 

His father’s head tilted slightly, and Damian could tell he was being examined. He did everything in his power not to squirm. At last Father turned away, striding towards the edge of the roof. “Robin, come,” he commanded, and Damian followed gratefully.

Both of them fired off their grapples. Damian expected them to turn towards where the Batmobile was waiting to take them home to the cave, but instead they went in the opposite direction, towards Wayne Enterprises.

Damian didn’t get a chance to ask until they were on the roof of the building, close to the penthouse doors. “Father, why are we…?” Damian trailed off as his father stalked to the door of the penthouse, quickly entering his codes and disabling the alarms set on the door. He gestured for silence, and then strode into the penthouse.

Damian paused for a moment, unsure, then followed his father into the dark apartment.

The apartment was clean and well maintained, for all that no one had been living there in quite some time. Of course it was, all of the Bat’s Gotham safe houses were kept ready to be used at any time. Still, Damian hadn’t stepped foot in the actual apartment since he had moved into the manor with his Father and Pennyworth. Since his father had come back from the timestream alive, and Grayson had given him back the mantle.

A shifting shadow on the other side of the room caught his attention, and Damian followed his father to a doorway that was slightly ajar. Damian knew this room, it was the one Grayson had favored when they had been living here.

When Damian reached the doorway of the room, he spotted the dark black and blue shape on the bed immediately.

Nightwing was sprawled across the covers of the bed, one arm under a pillow that he had dragged down from the headboard. He was still in uniform and as the older man turned his head Damian could see he hadn’t even bothered to remove his domino mask. Suddenly Father was standing next to Damian, pressing a soft bundle into his hands. Damian took it automatically, and his father nodded towards a nearby bathroom. “Change out of your uniform, take a shower if you feel up to it.” Damian glanced down, realizing that the soft bundle in his arms was civilian clothes. His pajamas, which Pennyworth carefully made sure to stock for every member of the family at each safe house. Another bundle, of what he assumed was Grayson’s sleep wear, was in his father’s hands as he moved toward the bed. Damian knew if he bothered to examine the clothes in detail, he would find that they were identical to one of the pairs he wore around the manor.

But he was far too tired. Instead he stumbled his way to the bathroom, changing out of his uniform and into the sleep wear. Instead of a shower Damian splashed some water on his face, hopefully enough to remove any dirt that had accumulated from hours swinging through Gotham’s polluted air. He was too exhausted for anything else.

He stumbled back into the room a few minutes later to find his father coaxing his brother into his own sleep wear. The uniform had been pulled off, folded neatly on the bottom of the bed, and just as Damian walked in Father pried the mask gently off of Grayson’s face. His eldest brother’s face scrunched up slightly in discomfort, but he did not awake.

His father was still dressed in his uniform, though the cowl was down. Damian could see the tired wrinkles around his eyes as his father glanced at him and waved him over. He approached the bed on unsteady feet, wanting nothing more than to curl up just like Grayson and sleep forever. His eyes were so tired.

His father reached down and plucked Grayson off the bed into his arms like he barely weighed anything. Grayson didn’t so much as twitch at the sudden movement. “Damian, crawl under the covers.”

Damian did as bid, drawing the blanket back so his father could settle his brother next to him, but not without protesting. “But Father, I can…”

“Hush,” the quiet word silenced him immediately, giving his father enough time to settle Grayson next to him and arrange the cover over their necks. He leaned over to give Damian’s face a quick stroke, the expression in his eyes something Damian could not name. The hand felt nice, warm and soothing. It made Damian feel even more sleepy than before. “I need you to do something for me, okay baby?”

Damian forced back a yawn as he nodded determinedly. He would do anything his father required of him.

“Watch over your brother for me, alright? Make sure he doesn’t leave your sight until he’s had at least eight hours of sleep. Can you do that for me, baby boy?”

“Ye-YAWN- yes father,” Damian whispered, pushing his head deeper into the pillows. He blinked tiredly as his father pressed a gentle kiss to Grayson’s forehead. He could do that, he could stay and make sure Grayson rested, he could…

* * *

  
  


Damian was out before Bruce had made it to the doorway. He looked back, and found Dick had rolled over and had pulled his little brother close, limbs wrapped around him in what the family had often referred to as an octopus cuddle.

As Bruce made his way out, he looked around the penthouse he had barely ever used. But it had been home for a time for Dick, and Damian.

Bruce knew Dick wasn't like him. Gotham was home to Bruce, and he felt each moment away from her like a physical ache. To Bruce home was a physical place on the map, real and solid. 

Dick, no matter the intervening years, was a circus boy at heart. Home was not a place to Dick, it was people. The family and friends Dick chose to surround himself with. The few things he could carry with him from place to place that gave the sense of familiarity. 

Damian though. Bruce didn't know which way Damian would be. Was home a place to Damian, or the people in it? Bruce hoped that either way, the comfort he could see in Damian as he curled up with his brother in his oldest Gotham home would always be there.

Bruce wanted Damian to always have a place to go where he knew he was loved.

Bruce allowed himself a small smile, and then left the penthouse silently, making sure all of the alarms and traps were in place. He checked to make sure the bag in his hand was securely closed. Then he set off for his second stop of the night.

* * *

Dick felt safest in high places. All of his children did, but where the others would settle on a quiet rooftop somewhere, Dick loved the experience of being taller than anything else in sight. That was why when Bruce needed to find his eldest, he searched the high rises and office buildings.

His daughter, however, preferred the middle ground, relatively speaking. Cass, during her years running away from Cain had learned to lose herself in the press of humanity. Even now she preferred to hide within the sea of humanity that the city offered.

He followed Black Bat’s tracker to an apartment complex, relieved to find the safe house window still open. Sneaking up on a sleeping Cassandra was dangerous at the best of times.

The apartment was much shabbier than the penthouse he had just left, but still well furnished. He found his black-haired daughter slumped down on the couch devouring a granola bar. He took a moment to close the curtains while she finished her food. He pulled off the cowl as he turned back to her with a smile. She smiled back at him, but he could see the tiredness in her movements. She was just as ready to drop as Damian had been.

“Come on, Princess,” he said, moving forward and helping Cass off the couch, letting her lean most of her weight on him as he led her to the safe house’ bedroom. “Bed time now,” he murmured. 

Getting Cassandra into the PJs he had brought and under the covers was a simple affair, and he smiled as she sleepy signed "I love you, dad" to him before relaxing into the pillows with a sigh. He did his best to be silent as he closed the bedroom door and retraced his steps out the window. 

Three down.

* * *

Stephanie's student apartment was next on his list. Bruce wasn't sure if Stephanie had realized that the "scholarship" that paid for her tuition and housing expenses had come from him, but he didn't dare ask. Of all the children, only Dick and Jason were more stubborn about refusing handouts from him. 

The apartment was small and poorly maintained but also stuffed full of furniture and knickknacks. Bruce had no trouble slipping silently through the small window behind the couch. Or he thought he had, but the minute his feet hit the floor a voice called from the bedroom, "You do realize i have an actual front door, right?" 

He made his way to the slightly ajar door, and took a moment to take in the room. 

Harper was slumped against the headboard of the bed, wrapping a bandage around her arm with grim determination. Steph was sitting cross legged on the end of the bed, stitching closed a wound just under her knee. Both girls were in loose civilian clothes, their uniforms left abandoned on the ground.

Stephanie twisted around to face him as he came to the door, and blinked at him tiredly. "Oh, sorry, didn't realize it was you. I thought Tim had decided to sleep here."

He took a second to sweep a look over the two girls, but neither one seemed to have any serious injuries. They both seemed tired, but in good spirits.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," he said quietly, tugging off the cowl. They both relaxed at that sign that this was just a social call. "I'm just checking on you two. Do you need anything before i head out?"

Harper shook her head, but Stephanie pointed over to the corner of the room. "Grab my hot water bottle and refill it for me, will you? I think I pulled a muscle on the last few swings."

Bruce nodded and moved to fetch the item, heading to the kitchen next to heat up a kettle and fill the bottle. Within minutes he was back in the bedroom handing the warm bottle to Stephanie. She immediately settled down under the covers, putting the hot water bottle over one shoulder with a sigh. Harper was already fast asleep on the other side of the bed, so Bruce decided to head back out.

He had turned in the doorway, one hand pulling the cowl back over his head, when a soft voice rang out. "Night, B."

Bruce turned to see Steph blinking at him slowly, and couldn't help the slight smile that came to his face. "Goodnight, Stephanie," he said, "sweet dreams."

She smiled at him and then put her head down, her breath calming into restful sleep in moments.

He stayed longer than he meant to in the doorway, just watching them sleep. These two girls, who every fiber of his being labeled as "his". These two, born and bred of Gotham just like him who have sworn themselves to his mission and he wants nothing more than to take that responsibility away from them. Wants to keep them somewhere safe. But he can't help but be so, so proud of them at the same time. Proud of them for choosing to protect others. Sometimes he didn't know how he hadn't burst from the… the love he felt for these children, these warriors. 

Eventually he managed to tear himself away from the apartment, heading for the next dot on his tracker.

* * *

Bruce decided to check on Tim next. If his third son did decide to head to the girl's place he didn't want to miss him.

He needn't have worried. Tim's tracker said that he hasn't moved in the last few hours. The tracker led him to the so-called "red robin bunker" that Tim had put together under his apartment. Bruce couldn't say that he was surprised by the sight that greeted him as he entered the bunker. 

Tim was slumped forward in a computer chair, one hand still resting on the keyboard while the other cushioned his head. He had managed to pull off his mask and remove his cape, but the rest of his gear was still in place. Bruce stepped forward and could tell from the soft breathing that Tim had fallen asleep. 

The workbenches around the computer were littered with things. From empty coffee cups to a utility belt with half the pockets emptied to a few armor pieces in need of repair, there wasn't a single inch of space left bare. 

He hated to wake Tim, but his son was a light sleeper. The minute he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, Tim bolted up, one hand reaching for a pressure point while the other reached for a weapon. Tim froze as he realized who was standing over him, then slumped back in his chair. 

"B?" Tim questioned, blinking up at him blearily. When he finally seemed to decide that Bruce was real, he whined, "I'm tired."

Bruce couldn't help the fond smile taking over his face. Tim had always been like that, able to go days with little sleep but turning into a whiny mess once he finally had the chance to rest. It reminded him of late nights in the cave that ended with him carrying a whiny Robin upstairs to bed in the dim hours of the morning.

"Time for bed, Sweetheart," Bruce told him, tugging Tim out of the seat and into his arms. The boy mumbled something unintelligible and burrowed himself deeper into his arms. 

The trip up to Tim's apartment was quick, and soon Bruce was wrestling his teenage son out of his uniform and into pajamas. Unlike the bunker below, the apartment was sparsely furnished, bare except for the pile of clothing left abandoned on the floor. Bruce shook his head at his son's lack of cleanliness, then turned his attention to getting the boy into his sleepwear. Bruce couldn't help the amused smile on his face as he pulled the Batman themed shirt over Tim's head.

Tim didn't react to the shirt in any way. His eyes kept slowly sliding shut, only to jerk back open when Bruce made a noise or moved too fast. Bruce wished Tim could let himself relax, that his son didn't feel the need to constantly be on guard. At least the boy trusted him, calming each time when he realized it was just Bruce. It made the warm feeling in his chest grow even larger.

At last Tim was safely tucked away in his bed, and Bruce had no more excuses. He set off for the last of the blinking dots of trackers scattered over the city like stars.

* * *

As he had half hoped, half worried, Jason was not in his bed. He also wasn't in his apartment, instead standing on the dilapidated roof of the Crime Alley apartment complex he spent the most time in. The lit cigarette in his hands said that he had been there for awhile.

Jason didn't turn to face him, but he could see his back muscles tensing as Bruce landed in one of the shadowed corners of the roof.

"What do you want, old man?" Jason said, sounding angry.

He always sounded angry when talking with Bruce nowadays. The sound made something in Bruce's heart ache. "It's late." 

Jason snorted, and waved a hand at the pale line of daylight sneaking over the skyline. " No it's not. You going senile in your old age?"

_You know that's not what i meant,_ Bruce thought, but bit back the words. Since the last time the two of them had gotten into a screaming match, Alfred had banned that phrase. Apparently Bruce "spent too much time assuming that others can follow his train of thought, and not enough _explaining_ , Master Bruce". Instead he said, "You should get some rest."

Jason snorted again. "I'm not twelve, B. You can't send me to bed anymore."

"I know," Bruce responded. But he couldn't help but long for those days. The days when he could send a sleepy little Robin to bed after an uneventful patrol, or carry him there after an eventful one. Those memories were bittersweet now, colored with so much nostalgia. 

Thinking of those days brought out the old longing in his mind. For just one more hour, one more moment with the son he had lost. At first, as he stood at a grave, the want had been sharp and bitter, overwhelming everything else. It had mellowed over time, with the company of his family, a new little bright Robin, and the sympathy of his friends. But it had never really vanished.

It hit him all over again, that his prayer had been answered. And no matter what else Red Hood was, Bruce was so glad he could claim him as his son. "Let me anyway?" Slipped out of his mouth, and Bruce tensed up. There was no way the open vulnerability in his voice had gone unnoticed. Clearly the week of little sleep had taken a toll.

Jason spun to face him, and the domino on his face did nothing to hide his wide eyes. They stood frozen for a moment each waiting for the other to make a move.

Then Jason seemed to crumble. "Alright," he said, throwing the remains of his cigarette off of the rooftop. "Okay… okay, yeah." He spun around, heading for the fire escape that led to his apartment.

Bruce was shocked, but he didn't dare let this chance pass him by. He followed as Jason slipped through the apartment window. The two hovered awkwardly in the living room area of the apartment, not sure what the next step was. Finally Jason spun on his heel with a scoff into the bedroom, leaving Bruce alone.

Bruce took the opportunity to glance around the apartment. It was in even worse shape than Stephanie's student apartment, with uneven floors and peeling paint. Despite Bruce's efforts, affordable _and_ safe housing was almost impossible to find on Crime Alley. And Jason stubbornly lived in one of the worst places he could find there, escuing the penthouses and bunkers and safe apartments Batman had ready to be used at any time all across Gotham.

And yet Bruce understood. Jason had been born in Crime Alley, and even taking him back to the manor hadn't changed the fact Jason saw the Alley as "home". 

Bruce wouldn't want to live anywhere but the manor if given the choice. He understood the pull of a home you would always belong to.

Where Stephanie's apartment was filled to the brim with trinkets and color, Jason's place was sparsely furnished. Except for the hidden weapons rack that Bruce knew had been left open deliberately to bother him, the only furniture was a bookshelf and an old, ratty couch. 

The kitchen was better furnished, with good quality equipment. Bruce took a moment to look in the fridge, and pulled out one of the prepared meals that had been stored inside Tupperware containers. He didn't know what it was, but it looked fresh enough so Bruce put it in the microwave to warm.

A sigh from behind him caught his attention. He turned to see that Jason had taken off his body armor, and put on a pair of sweatpants. He was pulling a loose shirt over his head as he walked into the kitchen. " I could get myself something to eat, you know."

"Yes," Bruce agreed, trying to figure out what he should say next. "But I'm here right now." Let me take care of you, he wanted to beg his son.

Jason's expression makes it clear how useful he thinks that is, but he says nothing, merely taking the meal when Bruce pulls it out of the microwave.

There is silence in the room as Jason eats and Bruce settles into a corner. He wonders if he should pull down the cowl, or if Jason will take that as too familiar. He hadn't come to a decision by the time Jason was throwing the now empty Tupperware in the sink. "Well, I'm sure you can figure out the way out," Jason tells him over his shoulder as he heads to the bedroom. The door closes with a definitive click.

Bruce should leave, he knows it. Jason has as much as told him to. But instead he lingers for a moment, taking the time to properly wash out the Tupperware and place it on a drying rack to dry. By the time the task is done, soft snoring can be heard from the other room.

Bruce wants to linger, wants to open the bedroom door and check on his son like he used to do, but instead he forces himself back out through the window, making sure the security system is set up and armed.

But if he takes a moment before swinging towards the car to peak into the bedroom window, look down on the head of black hair with its shock of white resting peacefully on a pillow, no one is around to see.

* * *

The drive back to the cave is calm in the slowly increasing morning light, and soon Bruce is parking the Batmobile in its usual spot on the platform.

He wants nothing more than to head upstairs to bed, but his task for the night is not quite finished.

Alfred, of course, is there to greet him. "A good night's work, I would say, Sir." Alfred tells him, his voice soft and it reminds Bruce of his own years being tucked into bed by this man who is his father in all but name.

Bruce spares the man a smile, knowing the exhaustion must be clear on his face as he pulls off the cowl for the final time tonight. "Thank you, Alfred." He says, but his attention is pulled away by a sound coming from the locker room. The two men exchange wry glances.

Alfred doesn't try to stop him as he makes his way to the changing area. There he finds Duke frowning down at the chest plate of his armor. He's dressed in the undersuit they all wore under their armor, and has his leg armor in place, but nothing else.

Bruce has to clear his throat before Duke looks up at him. "Oh, hey, Bruce," he says and Bruce winces internally at the bloodshot eyes staring at him. "Just about-," the boy is cut off by a deep yawn, "Just about to head out. Soon as i figure out this stupid clasp." He glares down at the chest piece as if it has personally offended him. 

Bruce didn't let out a sigh, but it was a near thing. "Duke, you're not going out today."

You would think, after raising almost a dozen stubborn teenage superheroes, Bruce would learn. But still Bruce still found himself making these same mistakes. Duke's head snapped up, and Bruce could see the stubbornness in his eyes as he jumped to his feet. "I can handle it," he snapped. "I'm not being benched, you can't stop me from going out and helping." The boy was breathing harshly, shaking slightly.

Bruce stepped forward, making sure to telegraph his movements as he reached for Duke's shoulder. "Duke," Bruce kept his voice soothing as he pushed the boy back onto the bench. "I know you want to help, want to go protect people. And you have. I'm proud of the work you've done this week." Duke looked at him with desperation in his eyes. Bruce settled on his knees before him so he could keep eye contact as the boy settled. "But there's a time to help others and a time where you need to take care of yourself." Goodness knows it had taken Bruce a long time to realize that. "And right now you need to take care of yourself by getting some sleep. The city will still be there tomorrow."

Duke stared at him for a few moments, and Bruce could see the stubbornness fading from his eyes leaving only exhaustion. " Okay," he said, his voice small. He stood up, and headed for the lockers where they kept civilian clothes. Bruce waited until Duke came back dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Then he led the boy by the shoulders until they reached the stairs. 

Duke shook him off at the foot of the stairs. "I can get to bed," he said, smiling as he pushed Bruce's hand off his shoulder. "You probably have a bunch of stuff you need to do."

Bruce let himself be brushed off, despite the urge to tell the boy that nothing could be more important than taking care of him. Duke was still new, unused to having Bruce as a parental figure. He had also spent quite a long time with attentive parents, unlike Bruce's other children. He would respect the unspoken request for space, but made a mental note to talk with the boy about Bruce's responsibility to take care of him.

"Alright," Bruce told him as he stayed on the bottom step. "Have a pleasant rest, Duke."

Duke turned to give him a small smile. "You too," he said, his eyes flicking to where the Batcomputer was set up. "Though i think you have something else to do before that can happen."

Taking the implied instruction to heart, Bruce headed for the large computer screen. The padded leather chair he used to help his back was pushed away from the monitors, and as he came closer he could see a head of spiky brown hair was laying on one of the arm rests. The sight of Cullen, curled up and breathing peacefully in the chair brought a smile to his face.

"Oh dear," Alfred said from behind Bruce, "I hadn't realized Master Cullen was still here. I thought he had gone to bed when the all clear signal was given. Master Bruce, would you like me to…" 

Bruce shook his head, cutting his old friend off. "No, Alfred, thank you. I'll take Cullen to his room in a moment. You should go up and get some rest yourself."

It took a little more to convince the man, but soon it was only Bruce, Cullen, and the colony of Bats left in the cave. Bruce moved back to the locker room and changed into his own sleepwear as fast as he was able, the tiredness coming back to the forefront of his mind. Soon, he told himself. he would finally be able to sleep. He hurried back to the computer, but did not pick Cullen up quite yet. Leaving him to sleep just a bit longer would do no harm, and there were a few things Bruce wanted to check.

Walking over to the computer, Bruce pulled up the tracking software for all of Gotham's vigilantes, not just his family. He glanced over his children's trackers first, making sure everyone was still safely where he had left them. Satisfied, he turned to Kate and Betty's trackers, relieved to see them safe in their apartment. Finally he checked on the Birds of Prey, making sure they had all made their way to somewhere safe for the night.

That was when a voice came to him over the speaker system. The last one awake. "You don't have to do that."

"I don't," Bruce agreed. "Have you thought about getting some rest?"

Barbra snorted. "Oracle never sleeps, B." Even through the vocal modifier she sounded exhausted. 

"You are many things, Barbra, but a robot is not one of them," Bruce told her gently.

Another snort. "Now you're just weaponizing Dick's lectures against _you_. Someone needs to keep an eye on things while everyone sleeps."

She had given him the perfect opening. "You're right. Superman?" He asked the air conversationally.

There was a rush of wind and Clark was hovering slightly before him. "Hi, Bruce, Barbara," Clark greeted them cheerfully, keeping his voice low so as not to wake up Cullen. "The League has worked out a patrol schedule for the next few days, and the Watchtower is set up to monitor Gotham. Everything has been taken care of."

Barbara didn't say anything, but Bruce could practically hear her shock. Bruce was infamous for not allowing other heroes to work in Gotham, especially not meta heroes. Bruce could only recall a handful of times he had called the League for backup in Gotham, and that was usually after either Dick or Alfred had worn down his stubbornness arguing.

Finally Barbara laughed. "Okay, if you can learn new tricks, old man, then so can I. Oracle signing off. Good night Bruce, Clark." the screen went dark, and Bruce couldn't help his pleased smile. That was the last.

Clark turned to look over at Cullen, still asleep in the chair. "You need help taking this one to bed?" He offered.

Bruce grunted, offended. He wasn't so old he couldn't carry one of his children to bed. Clark watched him lift the boy into his arms with an amused smile.

"Don't you have a patrol to start?" Bruce asked him grumpily as he headed for the stairs. Clark may have responded to him, but Bruce couldn't make out the words. He was only minutes away from his own bed and his body had finally decided to make its complaints known.

Bruce's steps slowed the farther he walked, but he didn't falter once until he had reached Cullen's room and tucked him into bed. He rose from a crouch with a sigh, and navigated to his bed more by memory than sight.

He paused only for a moment after settling under his covers to glance out the window. The morning light was strong now, and Bruce could just barely see Gotham in the distance through the usual morning fog.

His city was safe. His family was safe and resting, and he knew that once they had all gotten enough sleep they would be here, yelling and screaming through the hallways of his house, or in the city playing games of rooftop tag. Soon everything would be back to normal, and he wouldn't be able to tuck most of his children in for the night.

But for now everything was peaceful. And Bruce allowed himself to let that feeling of peace sweep him off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that neither of the Row siblings got speaking roles. And that Clark was barely present, I am very tired, and had no idea what else the characters would have to talk about. 
> 
> I do not know anything about Kate and Betty except that they exist, so apologies if I did something wrong (I assumed they lived together, but I have no idea). 
> 
> I really am not sure about Duke's section, mostly because I'm giving him the anxiety that is usually headcannoned as belonging to the other Batboys: fear of taking a break because they need to help everyone. I honestly think that's an anxiety that every vigilante struggles with at some point, but I wasn't sure how Duke would react to that struggle. Let me know if what I have here is too far off!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
